


water does run, but blood does clot

by marikishtarisgay (Random13245)



Series: if you put a razor in your mouth, you will spit blood [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, Break Up, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, M/M, Making Up, Minor Violence, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Mai Kujaku, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random13245/pseuds/marikishtarisgay
Summary: >relatives should take care of each otherMarik; injured, mourning. Angrier than ever, heartbroken, distressed. Too different, too much. Lost in the situation. Worn out, frayed at the edges. Making bad decisions, regretting bad decisions. Just wants revenge.Bakura; frustrated, sidelined. Taken, given, ruined. Born anew. Confused, thrown into the water and can't swim. Still wondering how the hell this all went from seeing a cute guy at the bar to where he is now. Also making bad decisions, not regretting bad decisions.Kujaku; wondering how they ended up being the mom friend.   [Completed 5/8/17]





	1. the past

"Silver does some real damage, eh?" Marik joked upon returning to Ryou's apartment with a set of crutches to support his injured leg. Bakura had initially lit up with concern before returning to his usual icy disposition.

"You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" Bakura said quickly so as to cover his concern with humor.

"Funny, that's what the doc said." He limped his away towards the couch before plopping himself down and settling the crutches on the arm rest.

"Finally, my love returns from war," Bakura sniped sarcastically, "'cept he's busted." Marik used one of his crutches to swing at him in response, but Bakura easily dodged. Ryou took the makeshift weapon from his hands before he could attempt to utilize it once more.

"Alright, children, it's time to recuperate and reorganize." Kujaku interjected, setting themself on the couch next to Marik before speaking again, "The Pharaoh's still alive, and we're down seven soldiers on our side. Two of which have serious injuries, three have minor injuries, and two dead." They tried to announce this casually, but Marik could hear the slight crack in their voice. "Marik, you're benched for the time being," he opened his mouth to protest, "No buts. You can't walk without the crutches. And who knows if there's still some incredibly small fractals of silver in you. You're high risk. The other one joining you on the bench is Aisling. She's a sweet girl, you'll like her, she's got a head injury." They rambled off the information, "We will all be returning to the outpost, minus Bakura of course." This received an indignant huff from said man. "All of our benched folks will be essentially the "women" of the war, you know? Again, taking tips from the Americans, you'll be helping with weapons organization and whatnot."

"Why can't I help in that respect?" Bakura asked. He had made it clear more than a few times to Kujaku how much he disliked playing the sideline. He looked antsy just talking about having to be left behind. Kujaku sighed.

"We've been over this," they said patronizingly, "you're _human_. Mortal. You're easier to kill."

"But if it's apparently safe for the wounded to do-"

"It's not." They snapped. "It's not entirely safe for the wounded. It would be _especially_ unsafe if you were there. You're a walking target. Everyone on the other side of the war knows about you. You're not just a human, you're a pawn for the Pharaoh to use against us. You are a liability." Bakura fell completely silent at their harsh words. "Bakura, I-" He didn't let them finish their apology before bolting out of the room and into the kitchen to cool off.

"I'll talk to him." Marik stood slowly, slipping the crutches under each arm and limping into the kitchen. "Bakura?"

"Fuck off." The response came quick and sharp.

"They didn't mean-" He tried to start, but was interrupted.

"I'm not helpless." Bakura slammed a hand on the nearest counter. "I hate being left in the dark on what the _fuck_ is going on! I think I have a right to know considering you and my brother are involved, hell, you're injured."

"What's going on is... it's war." Marik's voice fell quiet in a slow decrescendo. "This is the reality of it." He gestured to his injured leg.

"What's the point of this, though? Why?" If Marik didn't know any better, he might have thought he heard Bakura's voice crack, but he was sure he was just hearing things. There was no way Bakura would let such a weakness show; a chip in the brick wall between the world and his emotions.

"It's... A long story. Centuries long."

"I've got nothing but time."

:.:.:.:

_[about 1300 C.E.]_

_"You_ sanguisugas _have no morals." The leader of the_ lykáns _says harshly. "You truly have no remorse for the people you kill? Do you not wish to remain unknown?"_

_"I don't much care as to what the mortals think of us, dog." The Pharaoh looks at the_ lykán _with a large smirk._

_"It is in our best interests to keep our nature secret." He warns, choosing to ignore the inflammatory remark._

_"In your best interests, perhaps." The Pharaoh seems bored._

_"Do not test us,_ sanguisuga _, we are prepared to fight for our interests." At this, the Pharaoh's face cracks wide open into a smile that dared the_ lykán _to follow through._

_Within the next year or so, the_ sanguisugas _lead a few small-scale attacks on the_ lykáns _. The purpose is more to agitate than to actually start fights, but it soon blows out of proportion. Each side kills people of the other side as they deem it fit vengeance for their own people who've died._

_The leaders meet, but it only serves to fuel the war. The Pharaoh is arrogant and stubborn, refusing to take any sort of blame nor responsibility for starting the fighting. Growing frustrated, the_ lykáns _give up trying to negotiate. The war would seem to fizzle out and turn idle, and then it would suddenly revive. This pattern, this vicious cycle, continues endlessly._

:.:.:.:

"It's an integral part of our survival to keep ourselves secret. The Pharaoh was willing to threaten that." Marik mumbled as he finished the story. "If we can't stop him or at the very least keep him busy, we're all doomed. As much as we talk down about humans, there's a lot more of you then there are us."

"If this has been going on for so long, how has no one won yet?"

Marik laughed bitterly, "There are no winners in war, Bakura. Everyone loses. Everyone is losing. We have and will continue to lose people, and the other side has and will continue to lose people. No matter what either side does, we are all losers in this hopeless situation. We can't win because war isn't winnable."


	2. the sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""...Speaking of brothers, don't you have one...?" ...
> 
> "I did." He didn't want to reminded of his brother...
> 
> "Oh." Ash's tone immediately sobered. "I have a sister. She's... she's much too young to be fighting, but... We're desperate for soldiers right now. I have no idea where she is now.""

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record, Aisling is pronounced "ash-ling" and she was supposed to be another throw away character but she ended up being important and I'm not sorry

Weapons organization was an incredibly boring job, Marik soon learned. He and Aisling were charged with keeping stock of the various guns, knives, bows, and ammunition. The outpost was quiet most of the time, though sudden burst of sound and conversation would erupt as people came and went. At the very least, Aisling was nice, if a bit ditzy.

“It’s so quiet.” Ash muttered as she marked off another checklist for ammunition. She looked up at Marik with a strange look in her eye, “You should talk about the human. I’m sure it’s an interesting story.” She paused. “Something to fill the silence.”

He paused to think about it. It was obvious she didn’t care much for filling the silence, she was curious just like everyone else who talked to him. “It’s not much of a story. We were both as this… seedy bar. I was just looking for a drink- by that I mean blood, not alcohol. He’s got white hair, like shockingly white, so he caught my eye pretty easily.” He spoke quietly while also idly continuing the weapon count. Ash was watching him intently, hanging on to every word. “We ended up back at his place. I was going to kill him, but… I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I didn’t get to know him much ‘til later, though. We met at that same bar pretty often. He’s rather charming,” he laughed humorlessly, “unfortunately for me.”

“And you fell in love with him?” Aisling asked. Her voice was so naïve, almost childishly hopeful. Marik sighed, unsure of what answer to give; the truth, or what Ash wanted to hear. Were those two answers even different in the first place?

“I suppose I did.” He gave himself a moment to absorb his own words.

“And does he love you, too?” There was a hint of pity in her voice, as if she expected the answer to be no.

He smiled bitterly, “I wouldn’t know.” He shuffled the ammunition around. “He’s not the best communicator.”

Aisling smiled, “Is he still with you?”

“Yes.”

“Then he must be in love with you.” Ash spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What do you mean?”

“Think, Marik.” She said somewhat patronizingly, “would he have stuck around through all of this,” she gestured around the outpost, “if he wasn’t in love?”

“I hadn’t considered it that way.” And he truly hadn’t. Now, though, his head was spinning with the words, _“he must be in love with you.”_ He supposed it was true. But it was going to take just as much time for that to soak in as it did when he realized that he himself was in love.

“I’ve never been in love before,” her voice took on a dreamy tone, “what’s it like?” He was startled by the question. Or rather, he was startled when he tried to come up with an answer.

“Well… It’s confusing. Maybe even frustrating sometimes. Especially with a human. He doesn’t want to realize the realities of his own mortality. He doesn’t like his brother and me being so far away, and in danger, while he sits safe at home.”

“That makes sense. Speaking of brothers, don’t you have one? On the other side?” Her query wasn’t meant to hurt, but it did nonetheless.

“I did.” He didn’t want to reminded of his brother. He didn’t like thinking about how his brother was ready to fill his head with silver. He didn’t like thinking about hearing the gunshot, so close by to him, but not aimed at him. He didn’t like remembering the look of his brother’s body slumped in front of him, lifeless at last.

“Oh.” Ash’s tone immediately sobered. “I have a sister. She’s… she’s much too young to be fighting, but… We’re desperate for soldiers right now. I have no idea where she is now.”

“Don’t let yourself think too much about it.” Marik said as comfortingly as he could manage.

“I know, I know. It’s best not to.” Aisling frowned. They sat in silence for an indeterminable amount of time before someone new entered the section of the outpost where they were.

“How are you two doing?” Kujaku, who seemingly took on the role of general, asked.

“Bored.” Aisling complained. Marik nodded in agreement. Kujaku just laughed.

“You’re never satisfied, Ash. But, again, you can’t fight, but we can’t pass up the extra help here. How are we doing on stock?”

“Most of the guns have been checked out, we have four in stock and something around thirty out, ammunition is dwindling, but when is it not?” Marik read off his tally-marked stock list.

“Man, that does sound boring.” Kujaku smirked. “How’s your head, Ash?” 

Aisling frowned for a moment, and adjusted the bandage on her head, “Hurts, but I’ll be fine.”

They turned to Marik. “And your leg?”

“It’s fine.” He said. He’d spent the day sitting, so he didn’t put too much stress on it. Kujaku nodded approvingly.

“Mai? Is Carlin okay?” Ash’s voice was laden with concern. Kujaku paused for what seemed like way too long for the answer Ash wanted.

“Carlin… She hasn’t come back yet. We, uh, we don’t know where she is…” They chose each word carefully, but despite that, Aisling still fell apart. Marik could see himself in the way Ash fell apart at this news. Sibling relationships were always complicated, but very, very close. It was earth-shattering to lose a sibling. Aisling fell into Marik’s arms for comfort as she sobbed. He felt his heart break for her and her sister.

“Ash, c'mere.” Kujaku drew Ash in, pulling her off of Marik and holding her. They led her away to a different section of the outpost, leaving Marik to dwell on what had just happened. It made him think too much again. He found himself comparing himself to Aisling and his brother to her sister. He tried to take all the hurt from losing his brother and box it up, place it on a shelf in the back of his mind. But losses like that don’t fit well on shelves.


	3. the bed part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""I can definitely forget the vampire thing like that." ...
> 
> "Does it bother you?"
> 
> "Sometimes."
> 
> At a loss for words, Marik resorted back to kissing. He shifted his weight so he could deepen the kiss... Bakura's lips left his, but began a trail across his jawline, down his neck, and towards his chest. He paused this trail to lift Marik's t-shirt over his head and off, exposing his full torso... Marik broke the kiss to finesse Bakura's shirt up and off of him. He kissed him again while running his hands down Bakura's newly exposed chest..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for forgetting last week, have some smut as a consolation.

Marik was eventually sent back to Ryou's place to heal up. Ryou was still stationed at the outpost, so it was just him and Bakura in the apartment.

"How's your leg?" Bakura asked as he sat down next to him on the couch, just close enough that their thighs touched.

"Stop fretting, that's like, the sixth time you've asked in the last two days." He jokingly nudged him.

"Alright, alright. It's pretty late," Bakura pointed out, "we should probably get some rest." Marik barely had time to nod before he was being scooped up by Bakura.

"Hey! I can walk, ya know. What is it with big, muscular men just picking me up like I'm a sack of potatoes?" He cried out indignantly. Bakura started walking towards the extra bedroom where he'd been staying.

"How many big, muscular men have picked you up?" Bakura asked, trying to cover the tinge of jealousy in his voice with humor.

"Two. When I got shot, a _lykán_ carried me back to the outpost."

"I guess I should be thankful, then." Bakura dropped Marik down onto the bed somewhat roughly. He laid down with him on the bed. Marik found himself instinctually curling up into Bakura and his mass of fluffy white hair. He hadn't fallen asleep next to Bakura in a long time, and being right back here felt like coming back home.

:.:.:.:

They woke up tangled together. Marik had trouble figuring out which leg was his amidst the coil of limbs.

"Mmph," Bakura grumbled, "ya know, sometimes I can forget the whole vampire thing, but right now is not one of those times. You are cold as fuck."

"It comes with being essentially a walking corpse." Marik reminded him. He didn't want to dwell too long on the differences between them, so he tilted Bakura's face upward and gave him a surprisingly chaste kiss. Bakura slid one of his arms free and held onto Marik's face, slowly slipping his fingers up into his blonde hair. Marik moaned into the kiss, and for a moment he was embarrassed at his own slip-up, but Bakura bit his lip and he couldn't focus on feeling anything but that. 

"I can definitely forget the vampire thing like that." He joked as he pulled away slightly.

"Does it bother you?"

"Sometimes."

At a loss for words, Marik resorted back to kissing. He shifted his weight so he could deepen the kiss, erasing any sense of innocence in it. He allowed, then, for Bakura to roll on top of him and pin him to the bed. Bakura's lips left his, but began a trail across his jawline, down his neck, and towards his chest. He paused this trail to lift Marik's t-shirt over his head and off, exposing his full torso. Marik arched his back as Bakura moved his attention to one of his nipples, then down further across his torso. As Marik pulled him back up for more kissing, Bakura slid his hands under the waistband of Marik's pants. Marik broke the kiss to finesse Bakura's shirt up and off of him. He kissed him again while running his hands down Bakura's newly exposed chest. Bakura slid Marik's pants down, careful to avoid irritating the gunshot wound still healing on his leg. Bakura started to kiss his way up Marik's uninjured leg.

"Bakura..." Marik moaned breathily.

"Yes, Marik?" Bakura teased. He brought his mouth close to the edge of Marik's boxers.

"Stop being such a fucking tease." He pushed his hips up, desperate to find some kind of friction. Bakura obliged, and pulled off Marik's boxers. Marik started to say something, but his train of thought completely derailed when he felt Bakura wrap his lips around his cock. One tanned hand found it's way into Bakura's hair and latched on. He gasped loudly as Bakura moved up and down, swirling his tongue around obscenely.

He pulled off way too soon for Marik's liking, but then Bakura started stripping off the remainder of his own clothing. No matter how many times Marik looked at him, Bakura always seemed angelic- all pale, white skin and the halo of white hair. He felt the sudden need to kiss every inch of Bakura, and he wrapped his arms around Bakura's neck and pulled him back down.

"Shit, I don't think Ryou keeps any lube in here." Bakura said as he opened the bedside table drawer to find it empty. Without warning, Marik took Bakura's hand and started to suck on each of his fingers. Bakura made a soft noise of surprise, but then melted into Marik's touch. Once Marik released his hands, he knew exactly what to do. He hiked Marik's hips up a bit to give himself a better angle, and carefully slid his index finger into Marik, drawing out a moan from him. He then added another finger, scissoring and gently stretching Marik. After the third finger, it was clear Marik was growing restless.

"Just fuck me already." He said, pushing his hips down onto Bakura's fingers. Bakura laughed at his eagerness. He used his still wet fingers to coat his cock as best he could. He adjusted their bodies once more for a better angle and slowly pushed his way into Marik. Marik adjusted himself to put his wounded leg safely aside, and using the other to wrap around Bakura's waist, pulling him in further. When Bakura started to slowly thrust, Marik let out a low moan.

"Oh fuck, Bakura..." Marik moaned as Bakura thrusted into his prostate, sending waves of pleasure through his whole body. His knees felt like jelly. As Bakura picked up the pace, he also wrapped a hand around Marik's cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. Marik felt like he was being unraveled, and it was happening quickly. He came, shouting out Bakura's name in the throes of passion. It only took a few more thrusts, which had fallen out of rhythm, before Bakura came, too. He pulled out and practically collapsed on the bed next to Marik, and wrapped his arms around him. Marik nuzzled his face in Bakura's neck affectionately.

"God, I love you." The words tumbled out of Marik's mouth without thinking about it.


	4. the words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""I wish it wasn't like this... We're too different."
> 
> "It doesn't matter."
> 
> "It does, though." His mind was running with the story of Meria and Adelaide. He didn't want to end up like that. "You said yourself it bothers you sometimes... I'm going to live forever. You won't."
> 
> "Make me like you, then."
> 
> "Fuck no... Living forever is overrated. It's awful. I won't do that to you." 
> 
> "What are you saying, then?" Bakura's voice gave away how upset he was at that moment.
> 
> His heart broke right then; they both knew what Marik was trying to say, neither wanted to hear it said out loud..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the prolonged absence- I left my iPad (which has all of my writing on it) at school over Christmas break. Anyway here have an update on a Tuesday because I'm a shitty author love y'all

The following silence was tense. Marik tried to act as if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb on everything they were. What happened to their comfortable non-committal relationship? It was so quiet; quiet enough, in fact, that he could hear each breath Bakura took before speaking. Three whole breaths in and out.

“I love you, too.” His words came out hushed, riding out on the fourth breath of silence. If it hadn’t been so soundless prior to him speaking, no one would have been able to hear it. As it was, Marik could just hardly hear the words even from the close proximity. And though he did hear it, he took a few extra seconds to filter the words through his mind and comprehend them as a whole sentence.

_Love. Too. You. I. I. Too. You. Love. I. Love. You. Too._

He met Bakura’s eyes meekly, and let himself be drawn in by his hypnotic gaze into a soft kiss. He held on tightly to Bakura, not wanting to let go ever. He could hardly restrain his growing attachment to Bakura. But the minuscule shiver from Bakura reminded them both of the harsh realities of the nature of their relationship. Marik was still essentially dead, love be damned.

“I wish it wasn’t like this…” Marik mumbled against Bakura’s lips. “We’re too different.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does, though.” His mind was running with the story of Meria and Adelaide. He didn’t want to end up like that. “You said yourself it bothers you sometimes. And if I survive this war, I’m going to live forever. You won’t.”

“Make me like you, then.” Bakura was almost begging.

“Fuck no.” Marik felt a surge of anger at Bakura’s ignorance, “Living forever is overrated. It’s awful. I won’t do that to you.” Bakura frowned.

“What are you saying, then?” Bakura’s voice gave away how upset he was at that moment.

His heart broke right then; they both knew what Marik was trying to say, neither wanted to hear it said out loud, no matter how much it needed to be said.

“We… We can’t…” He couldn’t seem to get the words to leave his throat. They clogged up his mind like a backed up drain. He sat up, retrieving his clothing from the strewn mess around them and redressing. Bakura did so as well, though he moved faster, as if trying to catch up and win this race to the end.

Marik opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He turned towards the door in a poor attempt to escape, but Bakura grabbed his arm.

“Marik, don’t do this.” His tone was shifting towards threatening. Marik shook himself free of Bakura’s grasp and left the room. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Kujaku.

“You can’t be serious.” Kujaku said, their anger came through the phone receiver clearly, “There’s no way I’m letting you back into the fight when you’re still limping!”

“I _need_ to fight.” Marik insisted. They sighed in resignation.

“Fine.”

:.:.:.:

He’d left his crutches. After hearing the front door open and close before he could stop it, Bakura had walked towards the main room of the apartment.

Marik’s crutches were there, abandoned on the couch. He didn’t know why, but this was significant to him. He’d left his crutches. Surely, that meant he had to come back for them. Or maybe they were a silent way of saying he was leaving it all behind.

Bakura quietly picked up the crutches and wondered if Marik could walk okay without them. He wondered what Kujaku had Marik doing now. He wondered if he was fighting. He told himself none of that mattered.

His concern started to twist into anger. How _dare_ Marik drop that bomb and not even five minutes later disappear. He had practically ran away from Bakura. He felt like screaming.

There weren’t words descriptive enough to describe how frustrated he was. He hadn’t heard from his brother, and the time he had had with Marik was so short and ended terribly. He wasn’t allowed to know what was going on because he was human. He wasn’t allowed to be with Marik because he was human. It was always a matter of mortality versus immortality. It was irritating beyond belief.

:.:.:.:

Being back in the battle was cathartic in a way for Marik. Everything was routine; there were no surprises in the outpost. Once Kujaku had the thickly-accented doctor clear Marik for intensive fighting, he was allowed back on the field. The deafening sound of gunshots were familiar to him now. The sound was almost calming to him. He took comfort in the sights and noises of war. He didn’t have to think about anything other than fighting. On the field, he could forget about Melvin and his relationship with Bakura. Nothing was complicated here.

Kujaku noticed how spacey Marik was being and tried to bring their concerns to his attention, but like his other current problems, he ignored it. Eventually, Kujaku forced him to face it.

“Marik,” they stopped him, “tell me what’s wrong or I’m not clearing you for battle anymore.”

He picked his words carefully and thought each sentence through before speaking, “I… I kind of broke up with Bakura.”

“ _What_.” It was obvious this was not quite what they had been expecting.

“Don’t act so surprised,” Marik went on the defensive, “it never would’ve worked out between us anyway.” His body language reflected the defensive tone of his words. With his arms wrapped around his chest, he looked like he was trying to shield himself from a blow.

“Marik… that’s not true, and you know it-” They tried to reach out a comforting hand, but he slapped it away. “I know you love him. You could make it work.” They insisted, but their words fell on deaf ears as Marik turned away from them and retreated to a different section of the outpost in silence.


	5. the darkest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""Is that worth making both of you miserable until he does die?..."
> 
> "If I distance myself now, it's less pain in the future."
> 
> "... I know it's hard with what we've been taught, but not that long ago you told me you were willing to ignore all of our rules and stories to be with him. What changed since then?"
> 
> "I came to my senses, that's what changed...""

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll update this, I swear. I will finish it, I already have it written I just need to post it. There's no use letting a story go unfinished when I have it written.

Marik submerged himself within the _lykán_ community. He found himself falling into the sense of family that floated around the outpost. Aisling became his closest friend and confidant, and he was hers as well. They fought side-by-side, and they had an unspoken understanding that each of them was fighting to avenge their respective siblings. Both of them had lost something irreplaceable to this senseless fighting, and that brought them as close as they were.

"Tell me more about the human." Aisling asked one morning while they were both still sitting on their cots. Marik frowned. He was starting to run out of stories for her.

"Once, he got totally smashed at that bar- not a good idea for anyone to do- before I even got there. He was so out of it, he nearly fell over when he tried to turn to face me. He did fall over when he tried to get off the barstool, then he got irrationally upset with said barstool and tried to start a fist fight with it- he was always the type of drunk to do stuff like that. I felt like I was doing more babysitting than dating the guy." He laughed at the memory, "He's lucky he's cute... I had to drag his ass back to his place and tuck him in bed. I left a cup of water and some aspirin on the bedside table and went."

"He's pretty lucky to have such a great boyfriend." Ash had that same dreamy look in her eye whenever she talked about dating and love.

"Yeah..." Marik hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Aisling about what had happened between him and Bakura. Instead, he told her stories of things they used to do. She seemed to enjoy it immensely, and he didn't mind telling her.

"I wish someone felt like that about me..." She mumbled to herself, clearly not meaning for Marik to hear.

"Anyone in particular you've got your eye on?" Marik teased, knowing full well exactly who had caught Ash's attention.

"Oh, hush, you!" She grabbed the deflated lump of fluff she used as a pillow to whack him with it. Marik laughed, and took on her dreamy disposition mockingly.

"Oh, if only Dawn would look your way." He pretended to faint. She swung the pillow at him again.

"Asshole." She commented. "I can't help that Dawn is just so cute and sweet."

Marik coughed, "Nerd."

Aisling responded in kind with a cough of, "Loser." He smiled back at her fondly.

The days all roll together. Before he knew it, a week had gone by, then two, then three. By the fourth week, he was starting to feel stir crazy. They all did the same thing every day it seemed. Though he enjoyed Ash's company, she was all he had here- except for Ryou. This wasn't home. But he definitely didn't want to go back to Ryou's apartment. He didn't want to face Bakura.

Since he still hadn't told Aisling about the turn in his relationship, she insisted that he should go back home and see him again. In her eyes, they'd been separated far too long. And while she was right, though she didn't understand just how right she was, Marik didn't want to face the music. He liked that life at the outpost provided earplugs against his mistakes and problems.

Eventually, he caved into Ash's demands. Both he and Ryou went back to Ryou's apartment, which was still being guarded by a rotation of _lykáns_. Bakura greeted his brother with a long hug, but decidedly ignored Marik. Marik couldn't help but feel hurt by this, though he didn't blame him for being cold. Ryou took notice to this, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to stoke whatever fire was burning within the house.

:.:.:.:

"Okay, what is going on with you and Marik?" Ryou asked once he was alone with his brother. The tension in the apartment was too much for him to ignore.

"Honestly?" Bakura said, sounding both angry and confused, "I don't really know exactly, but he... He just kind of left. He told me we were 'too different.'" He mocked Marik's words with air quotes. Ryou sighed.

"You need to be patient with him, it's drilled into us that getting attached to humans is deadly." He tried to explain.

"I have been patient, Ryou. He ran off for four weeks!"

"Did something happen? Something that scared him, maybe?" Ryou attempted to figure out the situation.

Bakura seemed to struggle with his words, "He, uh... He told me he loved me."

"And he's scared to death of his own feelings." Ryou filled in the rest of the story. "And you would be too, if you were in the same position as him. You haven't heard the stories we're told about falling in love with humans and how terrible it is."

"That doesn't make this any less frustrating on my end." He pointed out.

"No." Ryou conceded.

:.:.:.:

"The stories are just that, Marik. Stories." Ryou said insistently. "You can't let your fear stop you from being happy."

"Yeah, sure, they're just stories, but isn't there some truth to them?" Marik pointed out. "We don't die, and humans do. Wouldn't it destroy you if the person you loved died? And you never would?"

"Is that worth making both of you miserable until he does die? Wouldn't it be more worth it to be together until then?"

"If I distance myself now, it's less pain in the future."

"For both your sakes, Marik, you need to get past your fear. I know it's hard with what we've been taught, but not that long ago you told me you were willing to ignore all of our rules and stories to be with him. What changed since then?"

"I came to my senses, that's what changed, Ryou! I realized I was being beyond foolish and wrong to do that to either of us! Saying it out loud... It made it so much more real, and I was able to see that it was wrong."


	6. the apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""Where's Bakura?" He asked reluctantly...
> 
> "He, uh, went back to his apartment."
> 
> "Without any guards?" His voice was rising in volume...
> 
> "I tried to tell him not to-"
> 
> "He's gonna get killed!" Marik exclaimed..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH SORRY FOR THE WAIT

"It's not wrong to be in love, Marik." Aisling said quietly over the phone. He'd finally spilled everything he'd been holding from her, and her sadness radiated through the speaker.

"Easy for you to say, Ash." He snarked. "He doesn't understand why I had to..." He struggled with the exact words, "do what I did."

"Because you are being foolish." Ash almost sounded like she was going to laugh.

"I am _foolish_ ," he accented the word, "for being attached to a human." Marik called himself out. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't." He muttered defeatedly. Their conversation faded out, and they exchanged a quiet goodbye. When Marik walked into the kitchen, he noticed a distinct lack of, well, anyone. He found Ryou sitting in the main room with a mug of tea.

"Where's Bakura?" He asked reluctantly. He wasn't sure he wanted to ask.

"He, uh, went back to his apartment."

"Without any guards?" His voice was rising in volume as he became more alert to the situation at hand.

"I tried to tell him not to-" Ryou somehow managed to keep his voice level and even despite the nature of what he was trying to say.

"He's gonna get killed!" Marik exclaimed, all of his worry pouring out into one sentence. In a few large strides, he rushed towards the door and was out in seconds. He stopped to berate the _lykán_ guard, but didn't stay there long, the situation was too urgent. He practically threw himself onto his motorcycle and started it up as fast as possible.

He dimly realized he was probably speeding, but he didn't care. He turned sharply into the parking lot around the set of apartments where Bakura lived and parked in the nearest spot, not caring to notice if it was reserved or not. He almost swung the front door of its hinges and practically punched the button for the elevator. It seemed like an eternity before the elevator arrived and then for it to rise up to the right floor.

Marik pounded on the door to Bakura's apartment. If he had swung his fist any harder, he might have punched a hole in the door. When no response came, he resorted to picking the lock. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was there before kneeling down so he was eye level with the lock. It only took a few seconds before he had it cracked. He flung the door open, allowing it to slam onto the door stopper loudly.

The room was empty. He went from room to room frantically searching, but the apartment was well and truly vacant. As he sped out of the apartment and towards the elevator, he pulled out his phone and called Bakura. It rang, and rang, and rang, but eventually ended up going to voicemail. He called again, then when that failed he texted frantically. Nothing. He called Ryou, who answered.

"Can you try and call or text Bakura?" Marik said without even saying 'hello.'

"Uh, yeah sure." Ryou sounded confused and concerned. Marik hung up quickly and ran to his motorcycle. He waited until Ryou called him back before deciding where he was going.

"He's not responding." Ryou's confusion was becoming overwhelmed by concern.

"Shit." Marik said and hung up without another word. As he started his motorcycle, he called the last person he thought might be able to help.

"Marik?"

"Kujaku. Hey. No time to explain, but Bakura is in danger. Missing." Marik tried to make the story as brief as possible.

"What?"

"He's missing."

:.:.:.:

"Stop pacing, Marik, it's not helping anything." Kujaku said, clearly irritated.

"I can't help it, my mind is running. What if he's dead? What if-" Marik spoke rapidly and worriedly.

"Stop." Ash placed her hand on his shoulder, successfully ceasing his pacing. "We need to focus on _where_ he could be." Her voice was steady, and steadied Marik infectiously.

"The Pharaoh has several possible hideouts." Kujaku pointed out. "He could be in any one of them, or, hell, they could be moving him around." They threw their hands up in a mixture of confusion and defeat.

"How do we find him?" Ryou asked urgently. Kujaku then started to pace, despite having scolding Marik for doing so.

"Do you have anything of his? Clothes, preferably?" They asked slowly.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Why?" Marik couldn't process where their train of thought of was heading.

Kujaku tapped on their nose deviously, "You can't fool a wolf's sense of smell."

:.:.:.:

Kujaku gathered a makeshift search party of _lykáns_ and Ryou retrieved an old t-shirt of Bakura's. The search party used the scent in attempt to track his location, but it turned out to be a much tougher job than they had anticipated.

"We really got our work cut out for us, don't we?" Aisling said, exhausted after spending the whole day of trying to track.

"The Pharaoh is an asshole, but he's not an idiot." Marik said sharply. "He knows how to cover a trail." He felt like he was ready to fall over and pass out- both from sleep deprivation and from stress.

Kujaku took their map and spread it over a table and slowly started sketching lines across it. "So," they chewed on the end of the pencil, leaving dents with their vicious canines, "we have the track up until this point," they pointed with the pencil, "and then... Well, we lose the track all together." They sketched a few spiny lines stretching off the main track.

"So, what do we do?" Ash asked desperately.

"We think. If we can figure out _how_ he's managed to disperse the track, we can reverse it." Kujaku paused to think. "Any living being has a scent and thusly a track. How..." They're voice trailed off into their thoughts.

"There's only one way the Pharaoh could pull that off." The gears in Marik's head were starting to turn.

"He's dead."


	7. the map

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kujaku used a push pin to mark the spot on the crumpled map. Spots on the map had been ripped or torn or stained with coffee desperately made at one a.m. to help keep everyone awake over the last few days of frustration and sleep deprivation. Marik felt similarly to the distressed map; frayed at the edges and full of it's own unique flaws."

"That bastard!" He angrily swiped his hands across the table, causing the map to crumple and crinkle and then gently float down to the floor, a stark contrast to how violently it had been thrown. His fangs started to slide out of their hidden pocket within his gums, showcasing his thirst for blood. Kujaku took notice to this new development and grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Marik, calm down." They said warningly. They tightened their grip on his arm as he seemed to turn slightly to run.

"Your eyes..." Aisling said from beside him in terrified awe. He turned towards her in response to the sound of her voice, giving her a full view of his contorted face. He was snarling, with his serrated canines bared. His eyes, which she'd mentioned, were glowing as if someone had lit a neon light behind them- the usually purple eyes had a red backlight. He looked animalistic and angry and violent. Aisling looked scared.

"Marik." Kujaku's voice was hard and cut through his anger. Slowly, he wound down, the neon light behind his eyes flickered and then died out, and then his fangs returned to the pocket in his gums. "Losing your fucking mind is _not_ going to help this." They said slowly, clearly trying to effectively calm the chaos that filled the room, "What we need to do is regroup with this new information, and go from there." 

So they did. With the new understanding that they were no longer looking for a living body, the makeshift search party could switch their attention to the scent of a corpse.

"It's a lot fainter," Ash explained, "like... just a quick flow in the wind." Her nose twitched like a pet dog's. "It's harder to track, but not impossible." Marik felt sickened by the way she talked about it so casually. He didn't like the thought of thinking about Bakura like a corpse; that was what _he_ was supposed to be, not Bakura. He'd lived dead for so long he'd accepted his own death, but it hadn't settled in that Bakura was dead.

Even with their search newly refined, it still took another day. It wasn't until midnight on the third day of Bakura being missing when they finally were able to pin down where the Pharaoh was keeping him. Kujaku used a push pin to mark the spot on the crumpled map. Spots on the map had been ripped or torn or stained with coffee desperately made at one a.m. to help keep everyone awake over the last few days of frustration and sleep deprivation. Marik felt similarly to the distressed map; frayed at the edges and full of it's own unique flaws.

Kujaku made the 'executive decision', as they put it, to rest for a few hours before leading the breech to hopefully find Bakura, dead or alive, or, most likely, both. Marik didn't understand their decision, as he could only spend the few hours pacing instead of resting. He'd almost dented a line into the floor where he'd been insistently walking back and forth.

It was around three in the morning when Kujaku finally gave the green-light to their plan. The witching hour, Marik noted with a bitter taste in his mouth. Though most of the tales told about the witching hour were more centered in the mundane traditions, that didn't mean that the supernatural cultures didn't have their fair share of stories dealing with the harrowing time of the witching hour. Where they began to differ, however, was how they dealt with the emotions meant to evoke by the stories. All of the mundane tales of the witching hour were designed to draw fear from its readers, almost a warning in a way, while the supernatural tales of it were more geared towards teaching it's readers to seize the opportunity placed so simply before them.

The Burrows were quieter than he'd ever heard of them being. It felt like all the usual cacophony of noise that carried itself through the tunnels had long since gone to bed, like any other sane being at that ungodly hour. The whole trip through the Burrows seemed to last until dawn, though it was barely three-thirty. They chose to go in quietly, instead of their usual attitude of guns blazing, and managed to stay hidden from any guard.

Marik had his back pressed to the edge of the corner of a wall, glancing onto the other side of the turn. The whole hideout was built like a maze with paths that led no where and twists and turns everywhere. The search party had split up in an attempt to cover more ground in less time. Since Marik and Ryou were the only non- _lykáns_ , they were paired up with one, so they could still follow the scent trail. Naturally, Aisling had insisted on pairing up with Marik. She led the way by only a few steps with her nose pointed in the direction she was walking towards.

She very suddenly froze in place and then grabbed his arm tightly and pulled him around the corner to a tucked away hiding spot. A split second after they were safely hidden, someone walked past. It was too dark in the maze to see exactly who, but it sure as hell wasn't one of their search party members. Once the person passed, Ash gently pulled on Marik's arm to lead him out of the corner where they were hiding. She put a finger to her lips and then motioned towards where the passerby had gone. The message was clear; they were going to follow this person.

As they tip-toed behind the passerby, it became clear that whoever this was knew where they were going. The person in front of them unexpectedly stopped, however, and stood still for a few solid seconds. And then, as if they had a sixth sense for it, they seemed to become aware of the two people behind them, and turned. Face-to-face with this person, Ash and Marik could now see who it was.

Bakura.


	8. the blood part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everything is blurry..._
> 
>  
> 
> _"How are you feeling, child?" A familiar voice... He feels as though he had been born just moments ago... The voice laughs... "I imagine not so great, hm? Here... drink up."_
> 
>  
> 
>  _So he does. It tastes metallic- like iron- and he thinks it should taste gross, but something about it feels_ right _as it slips down his tongue and through his throat._ "

Marik froze stock-still. He felt as if his insides had been turned to ice. If his heart was stilling actively pumping, it would have stopped right then in that moment. This person- this _stranger_ \- standing in front of him was, by all accounts, Bakura. But everything about him seemed off; his eyes were cold and had an inhuman glow, his stance was aggressive, and his teeth. His teeth were the worst part. They were sharpened as if by a whetstone to an acute point. The look in his stony eyes made it all too clear; he didn't recognize them as anything but enemies.

He lunged at them, but instead of targeting Marik, he grabbed at Ash. She squeaked like a puppy being kicked as his fingers wrapped around her neck.

"Bakura!" Marik shouted, seeming to spring Bakura free from whatever was preventing him from recognizing them. His grip on Ash's neck flew open and he looked down at his hands as if he'd never seen them before. "Hey, hey..." Marik tried to find some semblance of consciousness as Bakura started to sway slowly back and forth. Marik grabbed his arms to steady him. But to no avail, as when Bakura went limp, he couldn't hold the dead weight and they fell together.

:.:.:.:

_Everything is blurry. He feels dizzy and tired and cold._

_"How are you feeling, child?" A familiar voice, one that had never seemed so comforting before, speaks. He doesn't know how to respond. He feels as though he had been born just moments ago; disoriented and_ new _. The voice laughs. He recognizes the laugh, but distantly, and he can't recall it ever sounding so musical. "I imagine not so great, hm? Here," hands which he assumes belong to the comforting voice place a cup of sorts in his hands, "drink up."_

 _So he does. It tastes metallic- like iron- and he thinks it should taste gross, but something about it feels_ right _as it slips down his tongue and through his throat. He begins to feel more awake, more aware. A plume of gratitude starts in his chest and works it way into his mind. This voice, it's hands, gave him exactly what he needed._

 _"Listen, child." And he does. "I need you to do something for me." So he does. He moves through the maze- moving target, the voice said- and when he senses a_ lykán _, he attacks without hesitation._

_But then he hears someone call out his name- or at least he thinks it's his name, he doesn't quite remember. But the sound of it and the voice it stems from hit somewhere deep inside his conscious._

_Things go blurry again._

:.:.:.:

Aisling had to help Marik hoist Bakura's now limp body over his shoulder as safely as possible. Backtracking through the maze wasn't any easier than walking from the other direction. They seemed to get turned around so easily, and carrying a body didn't make it any simpler.

Somehow, they managed to find their way back into the Burrows, safe and secure. It was only a matter of time, though, until someone noticed the distinct lack of Bakura and came after him, so the trip was less then relaxed.

As soon as he could, Marik dumped Bakura's still unconscious form onto the couch in Ryou's apartment. Aisling did what she could to contact the rest of the search party to confirm that Bakura was safe.

"C'mon, you idiot." Marik mumbled next to the corpse laid out on the couch, clearly trying to sound angry, but his fondness for said idiot bled through the insult. Ash moved silently to the kitchen and came back with a cold towel.

"Here." She handed it off to Marik, who placed it on Bakura's forehead. Despite all their best efforts, it took several hours before he awoke. By the time he started to stir, Kujaku and Ryou had joined the gang hanging over him worriedly.

"The fuck...?" Bakura rasped. He looked disoriented.

"Bakura!" Marik practically jumped onto him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. "Gods, we weren't sure if you were dead or- the _lykáns_ couldn't track you- and when we found you- you looked so- so _not_ you- thank gods you're okay." He couldn't seem to stop the flow of words falling from his mouth. As he loosened his grip, Bakura threw his arms up and around him, pulling him back in. Marik was lost in the oddly affectionate gesture when someone coughed behind him. He awkwardly extracted himself, leaving Bakura slightly sitting up against the arm rest of the couch.

"How do you feel?" Ryou stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his forehead.

"Kind of like I was ripped out of my own skin and put back, but not quite right." He muttered. Marik frowned, an understanding seeping under his skin. One he'd been trying to ignore since they found Bakura.

"The Pharaoh... He turned you..." Marik said so softly that almost no one heard.

"I..." Bakura reached his fingers up to gingerly poke at his teeth. At first, it seemed like there was nothing there, but then, unconsciously, he let his fangs slide out. One sharp tip punctured his finger, causing a tiny droplet of his own blood to rise to the wound. The smell of it was intoxicating, but before he could do anything, Marik grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

"Don't." He said sternly. "For one thing, drinking the blood of your own people provides no nutrition and drinking your own just cycles the same blood through, you could get sick if you make a habit of it." He struggled to keep his tone factual, to leave all emotion behind at that moment. His eyes gave him away, though. The pain was clear.

After a long, drawn out pause of silence, Kujaku announced that it had been a long enough day and ordered everyone to get some rest. Kujaku and Aisling left together and Ryou went to his own bedroom. Marik picked up Bakura off the couch and carried him to the guest bedroom. They laid down together, and Marik couldn't stop himself from wrapping himself around Bakura to help soothe his worry.

"Bakura?" He mumbled into Bakura's neck.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you're not dead- well, not really, really dead, all things considered."

"Me too."


	9. the blood part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The war raged on. It waited for no one, it gave no time for them to adjust...
> 
> "The Pharaoh. What exactly... _is_ he...?"
> 
> "He's... the first of our kind..."
> 
> "And if he dies...?"
> 
> "I-... I don't know..."
> 
> "So, we don't know if like, something catastrophic might happen if he dies?"
> 
> "For example...?"
> 
> "Oh, I don't know, the death of your entire race...?"
> 
> "I guess, yeah, we don't know..."
> 
> "And what are all the known ways to kill your... type...?"
> 
> "Uh," Marik was thrown off by the unusual question. "Silver, decapitation, dead man's blood..."
> 
> "Dead man's blood?""

The war raged on. It waited for no one, it gave no time for them to adjust.

"It not fair why can't I-"

"You're still a flight-risk- not by choice, I know, I know- but if the Pharaoh gets control of you again-"

"I'm just tired of waiting in the sidelines! First, I wasn't allowed because I was mortal- and yeah, it frustrated the hell out of me, but I got it- and now that I'm not mortal anymore, I still have to play the bench-warmer?" Bakura's voice slowly rose in intensity as he spoke.

"Like I said, if the Pharaoh is given the chance, he can turn you all 'mind slave,' again." Kujaku said concernedly. "I don't want to stroke your ego, but you're strong. We're better with you sitting it out than you fighting for the other side."

"'Kura, c'mon-" Marik tried to diffuse the situation, but was quickly cut off.

"Don't." They both said. _Well,_ he thought bitterly, _at least they can agree on that._ He instead turned away to the kitchen to make tea and try that method instead. By the time the kettle was whistling, the argument was starting to boil hotter than the tea. He set two extra mugs of tea on the coffee table and sat down on the couch cross-legged. From where he was sitting, he had a front row view to the argument as he sipped his own mug of tea.

"You're not going to fight and that's final!" Kujaku shouted, sounding distinctly like an angry soccer mom pulling her kid off the field. Bakura looked like he would breathe fire if he could. He opened his mouth to protest again, but stopped when he noticed Marik and the mug of tea clearly intended for him. He sighed, resigned, and plopped down next to Marik.

"Great," Kujaku said, breathing out in relief, "now we can discuss future plans." They sat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. Bakura begrudgingly took a sip of his tea. "First, I need to brush up _sanguisugan_ lore. Fact and fiction have started to run together."

"What exactly do you want to know?"

"The Pharaoh. What exactly... _is_ he?" Their eyebrows furrowed as they asked the question.

"He's... Like the first of our kind. He has limited control over all of us- basic commands, directions- and he can completely control younger _sanguines_." His eyes flicked over to Bakura for a split second.

"And if he dies?" Their tone sounded very hopeful.

"I-" Marik started, but then stopped. He closed his mouth, slowly furrowing his brows with thought. "Honestly?" He paused to think once again, "I don't know. Not exactly something they teach in vampire training classes."

"What _do_ they teach?" Kujaku laughed humorlessly.

"Oh, you know, the basics, eating people, and whatnot." Marik tried to joke, but it seemed to fall flat as a result of the severity of the real conversation they needed to be having.

"So, we don't know if like, something catastrophic might happen if he dies?"

"For example...?"

"Oh, I don't know, the death of your entire race?" Kujaku sounded oddly concerned.

"I guess, yeah, we don't know." Marik sounded oddly unconcerned.

"And what are all the known ways to kill your... type?" Kujaku sipped their tea inconspicuously.

"Uh," Marik was thrown off by the unusual question. "Silver, decapitation, dead man's blood... That's about it."

"Dead man's blood?"

"Like, blood taken from a dead person. Since we..." He chose his phrases carefully, "gain nutrients from living blood, dead man's blood is similar to a poison for us. In low doses, it can causes paralysis, but a lot can mean painful and slow death."

"And all we need is a dead person? Doesn't have to be something specific or ritualistic, like a virgin or something?" Kujaku was sort of joking, but also slightly not. Certain olden rules required very specific sacrifices. Marik nodded. Kujaku smiled, revealing their vicious canines.

Well, it had been awhile since he'd had a proper drink anyway.

:.:.:.:

Marik usually wasn't one for theatrics, but he could help himself sometimes. He'd enraptured a young girl as his victim, this one much more alive looking than the surrounding environment. He'd swept her up onto the dance floor and dramatically twirled her around. Kujaku watched from the bar seating with an exasperated look on their face. Next to them, Bakura sat drinking something strong, without knowing that it would have no effect on his now dead body.

He leaned up and whispered something in her ear. Bakura ordered another drink. He drug her away, outside, presumably to kill her. She was beautiful. Bakura slammed the now empty glass of whiskey down.

About two minutes later, Marik returned, and sat on the other side of Kujaku. They stood, and went to retrieve the blood from the hallowed corpse. Once they were done, all three of them left.

:.:.:.:

"Are you sure?" Kujaku held a tiny amount of the dead man's blood in a cup. They'd been pacing on the concrete floor of the outpost.

"This is the only way you'll let me help, so yes." Bakura tried to reach for the cup, but Kujaku sidestepped and avoided his grasp.

"But if Marik knew-"

"He's not my mom. Hell, he's not even my boyfriend. I need to help somehow, I feel useless." Finally, Kujaku relented and relinquished the dose. They'd purposefully gone for a very small amount- they weren't out to kill the Pharaoh, or at least not _yet_. Bakura downed the blood like it was shot, and immediately felt faint. He swayed slightly, to which Kujaku responded by grabbing his shoulders. They gently laid him down on one of the many cots carefully lined up across the wall of the medical bay.

He could feel the dead man's blood as it melted underneath his skin like butter on a hot pan, feeling as though muscle was being turned to bone. It didn't _hurt_ per se, but it felt about as pleasant as it sounded. He was briefly reminded of some rare disease that causes that to actually happen, but he couldn't remember what it was called. His body was quickly stiffening as a result of the dead man's blood. He was still conscious, but he couldn't move a single muscle.

"You still with me?" Kujaku asked, and their voice rang loudly in his ears. He experimentally tried to move his lips, but they felt numb, as if he'd been shot up with novocaine. Nonetheless, he managed some muffled words.

"Yef." His lips moved awkwardly together, hardly creating the word.

"Good, good." Kujaku moved over to where they'd stored the rest of the dead man's blood, and carefully measured out the same amount they'd just given Bakura into a syringe. They quickly clicked a timer on their phone to see just how long he would stay fully paralyzed. "As soon as you get any feeling, tell me."

"Okuh." He responded as best as he could manage.


	10. the party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come, _on_ , pet... All you need to do is cooperate..."
> 
> "Fuck. You..."
> 
> "Oooh, nope, sorry, wrong answer... Your little friends are on their way anyway, aren't they? Come to get me... What a joke... We'll just wait here until your little crew arrives..." He got up off the chair... and motioned to one of his minions. "Stay here and keep an eye on him. I'm going to go welcome our party guests.""

Even with the tiny dosage, it took nearly four hours for Bakura to start feeling again. And even then, it was more just a light tingling feeling in his fingers and toes. He informed Kujaku of this new development, and they quickly exited the game they'd been busying themself with, and ticked a lap on the timer. In an effort to try and accelerate the process- so they knew the very minimum amount of time they'd have the Pharaoh helpless- he did what he could to make parts of his body move. He started with his hands, as they were tingling the most. When he finally managed to restore full movement back to his fingers, he told Kujaku, and continued his endeavor.

Amidst Bakura's futile attempts to lift an arm, Kujaku's phone went off, playing some bubblegum-pop song. Before Bakura could voice his disgust with their music taste, they clicked the notification and started typing.

"Fuck." They mumbled to themself. They stood suddenly, and paced as they typed feverishly.

"Whath?" He tried, in vain, to sit up, but ended up slamming his head back down as the rest of his body refused follow suit.

"Nothing really," their voice wobbled as they speak, betraying the calm connotation of their words, "just that the Pharaoh might have caught on to our plan and also might have Marik. Shit." The last word came out sharp, as if it was punctuation to their sentence.

Maybe the shock of the news helped, but this time, when Bakura tried to sit up, his body cooperated- to a certain extent- and he was able to sit up on his elbows. "Whath?" His tone was even more urgent, though he still couldn't speak clearly over the numbness in his lips.

"Ah, well, you know, Marik's a fucking idiot..." They're voice was getting higher in panic, and they spoke in a rushed tone. "And, uh, he was out, at that bar again, and he got clocked by one of the Pharaoh's goons." Kujaku sighed in frustration. "And we're down a man because I can't leave you unattended like this and- _shit_." Their phone rang again, this time a call, and they answered in a flurry, "Ash, talk to me, what's going on?" Aisling's muffled panicked voice fluttered through the speaker. "Okay, okay, how much does he know?" More murmurs. "Fuck, yeah, I'll be there, shit." Kujaku hung up their phone with a furious tap to the screen. "I've got to go, I'm getting Tamotsu to come watch you and keep track of time."

He tried to protest, but they were already hurriedly rushing out of the medical bay. Tamotsu came in a moment later, grumbling about having 'babysitting duty.'

:.:.:.:

"Come, _on_ , pet... All you need to do is cooperate." The Pharaoh slowly pulled a silver blade across Marik's face, burning the skin it sliced into.

"Fuck. You." Marik insisted. He tugged angrily on his restraints.

"Oooh, nope, sorry, wrong answer." The Pharaoh said in a mock game show host voice. He dug the blade into Marik's right cheek, cutting down until the silver hit his cheekbone. Marik hissed in pain as the blade dug into his skin. "What _exactly_ do you think you're gaining from holding back? Your little friends are on their way anyway, aren't they? Come to get me." The Pharaoh laughed once, loudly and boisterous. "What a joke."

Marik spat blood at the Pharaoh's feet.

"Tsk, tsk. I'd keep going on with this method, but you don't seem to care much about getting hurt, do you?" Silence. "Hmm." The Pharaoh did a slow, drawn out, predatory circle around Marik. He sat down on the armrest of the wooden chair Marik was chained- with silver chains- to, effectively crushing his arm. "We'll just wait here until your little crew," he made a mocking hand gesture, "arrives. Then maybe I can use one of _those_ kiddies to get something out of you. Maybe the human- except, oh wait, he's not human anymore, is he?" The Pharaoh seemed to be holding back another cackle. He got up off the chair, much to Marik's arm's relief, and motioned to one of his minions. "Stay here and keep an eye on him. I'm going to go welcome our party guests."

:.:.:.:

"This is as far as we're going." Aisling said, crossing her arms across her chest. "You've got a fine enough sense of smell to find him from here on your own, Mai." Next to her, Dawn frowned.

"Ash, calm down..." She muttered. Aisling immediately deflated under Dawn's scolding gaze.

"But, seriously, Dawn, this is way above our pay grade." Ash joked, but humorlessly, and no one was laughing. She was right.

"It's fine, the extra trackers can all head back. Ryou and I got it from here." Kujaku said, effectively excusing the small group of tagalongs they'd brought. Then, they ventured into the hideout.

Kujaku carried a syringe of dead man's blood in each hand, and had several more packed into their belt, ready to attack at any minute. Ryou had questioned how they'd gotten such an exact dose for paralysis, and they were forced to fess up to the experiment, which ended up yielding no results so far.

They followed the faint, but distinct, scent, all the way to the locked door which blocked them from the room where everything was happening. Ryou knelt down at the lock and took out his lock-pick. In just a few seconds, he had the lock undone and opened the door.

Confetti fell on the two new arrivals to the room. Confusion fell upon them as well.

"Welcome to the party." The Pharaoh greeted in faux excitement. In a move so swift, no one, not even the person making the move themselves, was prepared for, Kujaku sank one of their syringes into the Pharaoh's neck with a brutal sounding _crunch_. He fell almost instantly, and in the same instance he realized where he'd gone wrong in doubting his guests and caring more about setting a scene.

"Fuck you and your goddamn confetti." They stated triumphantly, kicking a pile of confetti onto the Pharaoh's, now frozen, body.


	11. the needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""How do you think we can get some info out of him then?... I mean, what exactly do we _need_ to know, and what do we _want_ to know? I think we oughta sort that out 'fore we go in there."
> 
> "We _need_ to know what happens to us if he dies... Outside of that? I don't think we need nor want to know anything else from him.""

“How do we want to approach this?” Kujaku said, sounding surprisingly levelheaded in that moment, while just a room away, the Pharaoh sat limp but alive. “We can always do the classic good cop, bad cop dynamic, but do you think that’ll work?”

“Probably not. Detective movies aren’t exactly accurate.” Marik pointed out feeling defeated.

“How do you think we can get some info out of him then?” Kujaku sighed, absently spinning in their chair. “I mean, what exactly do we _need_ to know, and what do we _want_ to know? I think we oughta sort that out ‘fore we go in there.”

Marik paused for a brief moment, taking the time to consider the question. “We _need_ to know what happens to us if he dies.” Kujaku nodded in agreement. “Outside of that? I don’t think we need nor want to know anything else from him.”

“We need a plan of attack then for how to get that information out of him.” They sat back into their chair, letting their back smack hard onto the backing of the chair. “I suppose asking nicely probably won’t work?” They asked in a bitter, sarcastic tone.

“Nope.” He shook his head, mirroring Kujaku’s overall sarcasm and bitterness. “There’s got to be something he gains from giving us the information.” He said idly.

“Would he believe us if we said we’d spare him?” Their voice lilted up in hope, though the look in their eyes said they knew better than that.

“Definitely not.” He rubbed his hand over his face in frustration and exhaustion. “He’s an ass, but he’s not stupid.”

“Is there anyone or anything he genuinely cares about? Or something he might want as a dying wish?”

Bakura interjected into the conversation for the first time, “Yugi.”

“What?” Both Marik and Kujaku looked at him, shocked to hear him talking. Both of them had pretty much forgotten he was even there, as he sat so still and so silent until then.

“I remember he kept talking to someone named Yugi. He seemed to care a lot about whoever it was.” Bakura spoke slowly as he picked apart his faded memory of that time.

“Shit,” Marik said in pure shock, “shit, Bakura, that’s brilliant.” He stood up quickly, and started pacing, a habit he’d tried so many times to shake, but failed consistently. After a few laps, he stopped suddenly, a slow smile verging on a smirk spreading ominously across his face, “I know exactly what to do.”

:.:.:.:

The heavy metal door to the room holding the paralyzed Pharaoh slammed loudly.

“Come to visit, kitten?” The Pharaoh’s mocking voice echoed off the hallowed walls of the room. “Oh, let me guess, you have questions, I have answers, you want answers.” He summarized. “I won’t give you any answers, sadly.”

Marik hummed noncommittally. “You’re getting more creative with your pet names.”

“Well, all this time… Sitting here, alone… In the dark. It gives you time to think.” The Pharaoh tried to spit, but with his still paralyzed body, he wasn’t able to.

“But you’re close. We want answers, you’re going to give them.”

“Oh? And why would I do that?”

“Because we know about Yugi.” Marik smirked, trying to pretend that they knew more than they really did. The Pharaoh looked shocked for a split second, but then resumed his composure.

“Taking a page out of my book, eh? Dragging someone into a fight that isn’t theirs to fight?” He said, clearly becoming angrier at the mention of just that one single name.

“Mm, it worked for you didn’t it?” He pointed out bitterly.

“What do you want.”

“We’re going to ask you some questions, and if you comply, nothing happens to your precious Yugi. If you are… not cooperative, I’m sure we can find a wind variety of _fun_ to have with Yugi.” Marik, again, spoke as if he knew a lot more than he truly did, but luck must have been on his side in that moment, because the Pharaoh seemed convinced.

“And what, pray tell, do you want to know in exchange for his… _safety_?”

“Oh no, Pharaoh, I don’t _want_ to know anything. I _need_ to know one thing. What would happen if- hypothetically, of course- you died?”

“What do you mean, child?” He almost sounded genuinely confused. Almost.

“To us. As a species. What would happen?” Marik clarified sharply.

“Well, if you _must_ know,-”

“ _Yes_. I must.”

“-you’d become human. All of you.” This answer was not what Marik nor Kujaku had anticipated, and they each individually tried to hide their shock.

They exchanged a glance, communicating silently. Marik gave one, quick- almost imperceivable- nod, and Kujaku moved to get the rest of the dead man’s blood. They slowly pulled the thick, sickly liquid into a syringe before looking back at Marik again, looking for another confirmation. In a clearer nod of his head, he’d signed the Pharaoh’s death certificate. Kujaku moved as if they were in a sea of molasses, slow and deliberate. Marik understood their hesitance.

Killing during the war felt _right_. It felt justified and reasonable. Here, with a immobilized- _paralyzed_ \- victim, it was harder to make it seem just. Kujaku would title themselves as many things, but a plain out murderer was not one of them. Marik watched in rapt disgust as the needle finally met the Pharaoh’s skin on his arm, and pierced the surface. A small droplet of reddish-black blood rose to the punctured wound and formed around the needle tip. And then they pressed on the plunger of the syringe, allowing the poison to glide down the cylindrical tunnel into the body of its victim.

It took a few seconds, but each second seemed to last an entirety. Marik felt a sharp, deep pain in his chest, and from that epicenter it spread outwards into every branch of his body. He fell over onto the floor, writhing in pain, and the only clear thought he had at the moment was of Bakura- was he feeling this, too? Was everyone who was once a _sanguisuga_ feeling this? It hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt. After the pain subsided enough for him to stand back up, he placed a hand over his chest.

For the first time in several centuries, his heart was beating.


	12. the dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ""How long has it been? Since you were human, I mean."... Something about this tidbit of information felt vital now, like he had to know or he'd die right then...
> 
> "Uh, something like 5 or 6 centuries ago? I lost track, really." He shrugged... it was striking to Bakura: he was feeling a heart beat that had been still for maybe six-hundred years...
> 
> "You're incredible.""

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, here it is, folks. I said this was going to be finished, everything else be damned!
> 
> I'm posting this a bit earlier than it's supposed to be but I couldn't wait to close this story and wrap it up <3

As soon as Marik next saw Bakura, he pulled him into a crushing kiss. It was less than graceful, but also communicated so much a single gesture. Every emotion he’d been holding in.

For one, the _pain_. The pure, beautiful agony of mortality. The lingering remnants of broken hearts- like shattered glass smeared with blood, cutting deeply into the skin of their worlds- mending each other. It hurt, but in all the right ways. And when the pain eased away, it left _love_. Overwhelming, world-destroying _love_. It almost hurt in the same way becoming human again did, like skin being slowly peeled away and then sewn back on, slightly differently.

When they finally withdrew, they were both gasping for breath, their chests heaving, betraying the earthquake they were feeling. Kujaku, who been doing their best not to intrude on this moment, finally conceded a wolf-whistle, to which Bakura flipped them off.

“We’re human, y'know.” Marik mumbled, as if Bakura didn’t know, still in a daze from the whole transformation. He wasn’t yet over the feeling of his heart beating, steady and alive.

“So _that’s_ what that soul-crushing pain was.” Bakura joked, letting out a raspy laugh.

“C'mon, kiddies, let’s get you guys home.” Kujaku smiled, not unlike the kind way a mother dotes on her children.

:.:.:.:

They spilled onto the bed, Marik laughing in a manner so close to giggling as he guided Bakura’s hand to his chest. Underneath his fingertips, he could feel the steadily increasing pace at which Marik’s heart was beating. He didn’t know how he never noticed it before, the fact that it wasn’t beating, but now, he couldn’t ignore the way it slammed against Marik’s ribcage, like a young bull against an old fence. It hadn’t been so long since his own heart had ceased to pulse, and the feeling wasn’t yet so foreign in his own body, but Marik…

“How long has it been? Since you were human, I mean.” Bakura asked in a moment of clarity. Something about this tidbit of information felt vital now, like he had to know or he’d die right then. Marik seemed thrown off by the sudden seriousness of the question.

“Uh, something like 5 or 6 centuries ago? I lost track, really.” He shrugged, unsure. And although the information was insignificant overall, it was striking to Bakura: he was feeling a heart beat that had been still for maybe six-hundred years. Overwhelmed for a moment, he ran his hands along the sides of Marik’s face and pulled him down into a, surprisingly soft, kiss.

“You’re incredible.” He said, the compliment spilling from his lips onto Marik’s as he kissed him again. Marik was thankful that they’d both closed their eyes, because he was sure his face was tinted with a hint of a blush. He laughed slightly into the kiss, and ran his hands along the sides of Bakura’s pale body, rippling the t-shirt under his fingers. He felt Bakura shiver under his finger tips. Not because they were cold, but rather because they were uncharacteristically warm.

Bakura’s shirt soon found a spot on the floor, along with the rest of his clothing as well as Marik’s. Neither of them could get over the feeling of Marik’s body, warm and living. It wasn’t so foreign to Bakura’s body, but nonetheless it was new.

It was blissful; there was nothing in between them anymore. It felt as though all their problems had been thrown away not unlike how their clothes had been. Though, also not unlike their clothes, they would have to pick them back up and deal with their problems later, but for the moment: it was bliss.

And if some words along the lines of: _love_ , _I_ , and _you_ stumbled out, neither of them minded this time. 

:.:.:.:

Kujaku ruffled Marik’s hair fondly. “You did good, kid.” They said, their motherly tone leaking out.

“Kid? I’m probably older than you.” Marik protested.

“Mm.” Kujaku said, not bothered. “But seriously.” Their tone turned more serious, matching their words, “You were vital in this.” They put a hand on Marik’s shoulder. “You did good.” Overwhelmed suddenly, Marik became aware again of the beating of his own heart. He pulled Kujaku into a tight hug.

“How’s Aisling?” He said after withdrawing from the sudden embrace, feeling awkward at the exchange.

“She’s okay. I hope…” Kujaku looked away seeming distant. “Her and Dawn are getting along.” They said vaguely.

“‘Getting along?’” He mocked their careful wording with finger quotes.

“You know what I mean, asshat.” They said, whacking his head playfully. “She’s better. Losing her sister was…” Kujaku trailed off, at a complete loss for words.

“I understand.” And he did. He knew the pain of losing a sibling. It was distinct. Like a piece of yourself being slowly ripped away until there’s nothing left but a scarred over wound. And it ached like a bruise constantly being pressed upon by the weight of all the guilt in the world. Sure, over time the pain would dull, become a part of everyday life so much so it was almost ignorable, but it would always linger.

An old saying once foretold that there was always the darkest before the dawn, and now, Marik thought, was definitely the dawn.


End file.
